


Your Heart is Your Masterpiece

by LetsGoBeTheGoodGuys



Series: Sleeping at Last [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flashbacks, Gen, Samulet (Supernatural), jack is an artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21795562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsGoBeTheGoodGuys/pseuds/LetsGoBeTheGoodGuys
Summary: In an AU where Dean started wearing the Samulet again after its return in season 11, Jack has begun drawing as a pastime. When he decides to draw Dean’s necklace, Sam and Dean have an emotional moment recalling the amulet’s history.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester
Series: Sleeping at Last [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645366
Comments: 25
Kudos: 122





	Your Heart is Your Masterpiece

Jack had taken up drawing recently. Dean had to admit that the kid was pretty good at it, too. After working cases, Jack would always sit in the backseat of the Impala, feet up on the seat so he could balance his sketchpad on his knees. Dean would glance in the rearview mirror and see Jack with his brow furrowed in concentration, carefully sketching out the monster they had fought. Dean used to scold Jack for putting his shoes on Baby’s seat and scuffing her up, so Jack began to dutifully take off his shoes so only his sock-covered feet rested on the leather. When he finished his drawing, he would lean over the front seat to display his work for Sam and Dean. Sam praised Jack’s drawing with the same level of enthusiasm every time and Dean would grumble. _“It’s good, kid. You really captured its hideousness. Now sit back down and buckle up.”_

At one point, Jack had even drawn sketches of Sam and Dean. Not full body drawings, just faces in intricate detail. He had drawn Sam first and presented the picture to him shyly. Sam had stuck the drawing to the fridge in the kitchen using a rusty magnet with a faded logo that Dean had stolen from a motel years ago. The tears in Sam’s eyes as he thanked Jack for the picture didn’t escape Dean’s notice.

Dean didn’t know much about art, but he knew Jack’s drawing of Sam was incredible. Dean had spent more time than he would admit studying it, amazed by the level of detail Jack had managed to capture. He had depicted a very specific look of Sam’s, something balanced between thoughtfulness and tenderness. Dean supposed it was the expression of Sam’s that Jack was most familiar with.

When Jack had offered Dean the drawing he had done of him, Dean had been embarrassed at the lump in his throat. His voice had been gruff as he thanked Jack and told him that this was certainly the best looking thing Jack had ever drawn. Dean had been even more embarrassed at the way Sam smiled at him as Dean placed his picture next to (and a little bit higher than) Sam’s on the fridge. If Dean felt a little stab of affection every time he saw those pictures on the fridge, he would keep that to himself.

* * *

In a quiet moment, the three of them were sitting in the bunker’s library. It was an increasingly common scene. Sam studying one of the books from the bunker, taking careful notes, Dean browsing on his computer, and Jack drawing in the new sketchpad Sam had given him. Jack sat next to Sam, as he usually did, while Dean sat across from them. Dean appreciated these quiet, comfortable moments, just the rustling of pages and the scratching of a pencil on paper. It felt like home.

“Dean, can I see your necklace?” Jack asked.

“What?” Dean glanced up from his computer. “No.” The response was instinctive and Dean grimaced a little at the silence following his quick answer. He glanced at Sam and found his brother frowning at him.

“Dean,” Sam said, chiding.

For his part, Jack was looking at Dean with wide eyes, mostly confused but with just a hint of betrayal. He had turned his sketchpad to a fresh page, clearly ready to start another drawing.

“Fine,” Dean said with a sigh. “You can look at it.”

Dean felt uncomfortable as Jack walked around the table and sat down in the chair next to him. Dean could feel Sam watching them and it made him feel weirdly vulnerable. Dean shot Sam a glare and with a smirk, Sam returned his focus to his book. When Dean turned back, Jack was sitting very close to him, looking at him expectantly. Dean crossed his arms - making it clear that he had no intention of taking the necklace off just for Jack to look at it. Undaunted, Jack leaned forward, so close that Dean could feel the kid’s breath on his chin, and gently took hold of the amulet. He spun it slowly between his fingers. Dean chanced a glance down at Jack’s face, mere inches from his own. The boy was focused, eyes squinted a little as he studied the amulet. Dean remembered staring at the necklace just like that for days after Sam had first given it to him. But Dean knew exactly what it looked like now, down to the smallest scuff. It was stirring something inside him to have Jack so close, gently holding the necklace that Sam had given him so many years ago. There was a softness in Jack’s expression that reminded Dean so much of Sam.

Dean heard Sam turn a page in his book and suddenly he realized how long Jack had been close to him.

“Okay, alright,” Dean said, voice a little louder than he had intended. “That’s enough.” When Jack sat back, Dean reached a hand out and pushed Jack’s hair the wrong way, just to make sure there were no hard feelings between them.

Jack used both hands to clumsily smooth his hair back into place as he asked, “Where did you get it?”

Dean looked at Sam, who had his eyebrows raised, a glint of amusement in his eyes at Dean’s discomfort.

“It was a gift,” Dean said.

Jack grinned. He loved gifts. “From who?”

“From Sammy,” Dean answered stiffly, uncomfortable with the trajectory of Jack’s questions. He was already feeling too vulnerable after sharing such extended physical closeness with Jack. Dean angled his body away from Jack to make it clear he was done with the conversation. “Are you done interrogating me now?”

Jack nodded, still smiling, and walked back over to where he had left his sketchpad next to Sam. Dean tried not to watch as Jack began carefully sketching out the lines of the amulet. Dean kept his eyes on his laptop screen for a couple of minutes, but he didn’t read a word on it. Eventually, he gave up the pretense and leaned forward to watch Jack work. The necklace came to life on the page in front of Jack, every detail perfect. To Dean’s surprise, Jack actually sketched out Dean’s shoulders, neck, and chest, drawing the amulet exactly where it always rested.

Jack was just drawing a necklace, but somehow watching him so carefully recreating the amulet was overwhelming Dean with memories. It was as if Jack was tracing out the history of the necklace with every stroke of his pencil. Every line was a moment from the past, dancing off the page and flooding Dean’s senses.

_Dean with chubby cheeks and Sammy as skinny as a beanpole. Sam hurt and angry with their dad but trusting Dean, always trusting. Placing a carefully wrapped package on Dean’s knee. “I want you to have it.” Dean uncertain but overwhelmed with gratitude and love for his little brother. So young but already so aware of what he would sacrifice for Sam. Anything. Everything. “Thanks, Sam. I love it.”_

_A cut lip from the amulet swinging up and hitting him in the face during a tussle with a monster. Sam dabbing an alcohol-soaked cottonball against Dean’s lip. “You should take it off before a hunt.” No hesitation. “No.” Sam sighing as if he was annoyed but the look in his eyes betraying his gratitude and affection. “Just gotta remember to tuck it under my shirt is all.”_

_Cas taking the amulet. “Don’t lose it.” Emptiness. Hollowness. “Great, now I feel naked.” Anger. Despair. “It’s supposed to be you and me against the world.” Devastating hurt and betrayal. The amulet hitting the bottom of the trash can with a soft thud. Dean not looking back. Walking away from Sam. Walking away from what the necklace meant._

_Sam shuddering, dying, gasping. Black veins growing across his skin. Dean ready to die with him. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.” Dean’s hand stroking through Sam’s hair. “I’m here, okay? I’m right here.” A glow from Sam’s pocket. A revelation._

_Dean sliding the necklace back on. A missing piece of himself restored. Tears rolling down his cheeks. Sammy. “Did you have it the whole time?” Sam’s timid response. Nervous. Too vulnerable. Hands fidgeting. “Yes.” Dean wrapping his arms around his little brother. Knowing he wouldn’t give up the necklace again. Not for anything. “Sam, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”_

Dean didn’t register it when Jack’s hands stopped moving across the page.

“When did you give it to him, Sam?” Jack asked, setting down his pencil, seemingly satisfied with his drawing. The boy’s voice startled Dean and he took in a deep breath. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath while watching Jack.

“Uh,” Sam glanced at Dean, his face tense with poorly concealed emotion, “when we were kids.” It was clear that Sam had also been affected by watching Jack draw the amulet - a symbol of something between the brothers that they rarely expressed out loud. Dean wondered if Sam had been reliving the same memories that he had been.

Jack’s eyes widened. Sometimes the innocence in his expressions caught Dean off-guard. “Wow, when you were kids? That’s such a long time ago!”

Sam laughed and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Have a little respect for your elders,” Dean said, unable to hide the fondness in his voice.

Jack continued on as if there had been no interruption. “Have you ever taken it off?”

The amusement Dean had felt disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. He looked at Sam, but Sam refused to return Dean’s eye contact, apparently once again very invested in the book he had been studying.

“Yes,” Dean said. “There were a few years that I didn’t have it at all.”

“Really?” Jack was leaning forward excitedly. He loved it when Sam and Dean told him stories. But this was one story Dean was not eager to tell. “Did a monster take it? Was it a zombie?”

“Not exactly.” Dean wished Sam would look at him. “I actually got rid of it. I was angry. It was a mistake.”

Jack gasped. His reaction would have been a little comical if Dean wasn’t so worried about the way Sam was staring down at the table, not even pretending to read his book anymore.

“I have a lot of regrets, kid. That’s one of the biggest,” Dean said. He knew his voice was shaking a little, but he didn’t care. He needed Sam to know how much he meant it. They hadn’t talked about it much after Dean had started wearing the necklace again. But Dean was desperate for Sam to understand. He didn’t need the necklace as a reminder of how he felt about his little brother. But he would never take it off again. The necklace communicated something between the two of them - devotion and love and forgiveness. So Dean wore the symbol of all the things he couldn’t say right over his heart, where Sam could always see it.

“You regret it because it was from Sam?” Jack asked. He was looking at Sam. He seemed concerned about his stillness.

“Yeah,” Dean responded, voice so quiet it was barely audible.

But Jack didn’t seem to be listening to Dean anyway. Slowly, he reached a hand out and put it on Sam’s arm. “Sam? Are you okay?”

Sam finally lifted his head. Tears had filled his eyes and they seemed to sparkle in the lamplight. He looked at Jack with a weak smile. “I’m okay, Jack,” he said.

Jack looked at Dean, concern written across his young face. Then he turned back to Sam.

“Dean wouldn’t ever do that again, Sam.” Jack’s expression was sober and he said the words with confidence. Dean wondered briefly where Jack’s faith in him had come from. Then his chest ached, heart thumping against his rib cage, as he realized Jack must have learned to trust him from watching Sam.

Sam finally looked at Dean, expression open and sincere and so very _Sam_ as he answered Jack. “I know he wouldn’t,” he said.

Dean nodded at Sam, swallowing thickly. He wanted to hug him. Or hug Jack. He rested an unsteady hand over the amulet on his chest. If love could make it glow, Dean would never need another light in his life.


End file.
